


These Reflections (Of All the Ways We Fit)

by spacebromance



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebromance/pseuds/spacebromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel attends a promotion ceremony for Hikaru. And he spends the whole time being ridiculously in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Reflections (Of All the Ways We Fit)

There are five other officers also celebrating their promotions, but to Pavel it feels like the entire evening is dedicated to Hikaru.

The tables are all draped in cloth, and Starfleet banners hang from the walls. The low tables are all lit by candles that shine out from crystal bowls so that the women glow and the men look young again and their shadows dance and sway on the ceiling. It all combines to gives the banquet an atmosphere of softness and muted warmth: just a little bit unreal, but bright and beautiful and full of promise of good things to come.

Hikaru is seated at the high table. He looks as handsome as the day they met, and distinguished by all the intervening years. He’s composed, dignified; solemn and easy by all the right turns. When he smiles it spreads across his whole face, and when his eyes glance out across the room he’s never _searching_ for Pavel, he just trusts that he’s there, and that the secret messages in his eyes will not be intercepted because only he and Pavel can understand.

Pavel is so in love with him it hurts.

When they pin the Captain’s bars to Hikaru’s chest, Pavel is so proud that he thinks he might burst with it. That at any moment he will smile just a bit too widely and come right apart at the seams.  He must not be the only one, because the Keptin—with whom Pavel is sharing a table—reaches across and gives Pavel’s shoulder a brief squeeze. They grin giddily at each other, eyes lighting up like ‘ _Can you believe it?_ ’ and ‘ _We did good with him, huh?_ ’

When the speeches are done and the plates have been cleared, everyone gravitates toward the open bar at the back of the room. The Keptin disappears to discuss politics with some of the other captains and admirals, and Pavel orders himself a drink and circulates. There are hugs and handshakes to be had for old friends he meets, and he sees Hikaru from across the room once, surrounded by a circle of well-wishers, but decides not to interrupt.

It’s Hikaru that finds him an hour later, sliding one arm possessively around his waist from behind as Pavel is arguing fringe transporter theory with a former classmate. Pavel smiles and moves his hand down to lace with Hikaru’s fingers while he and Beckett finish their discussion.

After Beckett’s congratulated Hikaru on his advancement and wandered off for a refresher at the bar, Pavel turns to face Hikaru completely. The candlelight is warm on Hikaru’s face, and it seems to seep right into Pavel’s chest and catch there, like a slow burn. Hikaru’s other arm slides around his back and pulls their chests close together, and it’s like a declaration they’ve made to the whole room, that they’re taken and belong to each other and no one else.

Pavel feels drunk on it. That Hikaru is here with him, when everyone here must surely be wanting to be with Hikaru instead.

“Captain Sulu,” Pavel grins, running his fingers over the bars on Hikaru’s dress coat.

“What?” Hikaru grins back. “Not ‘ _Keptin’_ for me?”

The years have softened Pavel’s accent considerably. The _slant_ is still there in his voice, but he’s straightened out his ‘v’s and ‘w’s, and he can say ‘Captain’ now without horribly pinching the vowels. He still calls Captain Kirk ‘ _Keptin_ ,’ though, and likely always will.

Pavel smoothes back the hairs just above Hikaru’s ear, considering. “Does that upset you? Would you prefer I call you _Keptin_ Sulu?”

It sounds wrong as soon as he hears it, and they both wince and laugh. “No,” Hikaru agrees, “no, okay. You’re right. Kirk is still _the_ _Captain_. I’m just jealous because he gets to hear your adorable Russian Standard and I don’t.”

“But you get an adorable Russian boyfriend. This is better, _da?_ ”

Hikaru pulls off Pavel’s uniform cap so that they can kiss without the brim getting in the way. “ _Da._ Much better. _”_

Pavel reaches up to touch the fine, just _slightly_ greying hairs at Hikaru’s temple. Hikaru scoffs because he’s embarrassed by them, wants to believe that he’ll be young forever, or maybe is just ashamed at how youthful Pavel still looks by contrast. But Pavel adores them. He chooses to believe that these first grey hairs are a promise: that they will grow old together, greying and developing arthritic knees and complaining frequently and at length about how cadets were more disciplined in their day.

Hikaru raises a hand and traps Pavel’s palm against his cheek for a moment. They stare at each other, both trying to communicate the depth of their love with a look because they know there aren’t words.

There’s a flash of light, and they both turn their heads to see a photographer smiling at them over a camera. Pavel ducks his head against Hikaru’s chest and groans and blushes furiously. Hikaru just kisses his temple and laughs.

“I apologize for interrupting you, but it was such a beautiful moment.” The photographer steps closer to hand them a ticket. “Return this at the door to collect your print. And congratulations on your promotion, Captain.”

“Thank you,” Hikaru replies, and Pavel can hear the grin in his voice.

“Ugh. _No_ thank you,” Pavel says, once she’s retreated.

“What? I bet it’ll turn out to be a great picture. You’re not embarrassed, are you?”

“No!” And then, “Yes, maybe.” Pavel isn’t sure why he’s so embarrassed. Their relationship isn’t a secret; he’s never been anything but proud to be seen with Hikaru. It feels like his single greatest achievement—above all the other awards and records and commendations—that he’s been able to keep Hikaru for his own.

Hikaru pouts a little. “Why? Can’t stand to be seen with me?” It’s an old joke between them, though there was at one time genuine insecurity beneath it.

“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just…“

Pavel searches himself, trying to sort out how he feels. Their relationship isn’t secret, but it _is_ private. Sometimes the depth of his feelings scare himself. How much he’s come to _need_ Hikaru in his life—how deeply rooted he is in everything that Pavel was and is and ever wants to be. That isn’t a thing he wants to share with anyone but Hikaru.

“It’s just that there’s photographic evidence, now.” Pavel fiddles with the buttons on his dress jacket. He’s aware that he looks petulant in this moment, but he doesn’t care. “Of how _smitten_ I am with you.”

Hikaru grins like he’s five years old again _._ “Oh my god. Say ‘smitten’ again, please.”

Pavel shoves him playfully in the chest. “That’s the right word! I’m not wrong!” He’s been teased for his misunderstanding of the nuances of Standard, before, but he’s certain that he’s using this word correctly. Overcome with affection. Delighted, charmed. ‘Smitten.’

“No, that’s absolutely the right word. It’s just that only you would say it.” Hikaru can barely get his words out around the completely unabashed smile on his face, and it sort of makes Pavel want to shove at him again. Shove him or kiss him—he can’t decide.

“ _You’re_ the one I heard it from!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. C’mere.” Hikaru pulls him in for a kiss.

Pavel wraps one arm around Hikaru’s back and another up into his hair, and just breathes through the aftermath of the kiss. Hikaru lets both his hands trail down Pavel’s sides to settle on his hips. ‘ _Let the photographer come now,_ ’ Pavel thinks. ‘ _Let this be the picture. How perfectly we fit together._ ’

After a moment, Hikaru steps away, taking one of Pavel’s hands with him. “C’mon, there’s people dancing. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Chulu Week 2013, Day 1 Challenge: "Fluff."


End file.
